Yarichin
by hadaka
Summary: Hanaki Guriko is a player.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Do. Not. Own.

**Warnings:** **Yaoi.** And slightly **crack**, I'm going to say.

**A/N:** Because I was reading Worst and when it got to Chapter 75, pages 39 and 40, I was like, IT'S RIGHT THERE. I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO DO ANYTHING.

And then I wallowed in the insanity that is WorstXES21 yaoi.

Does anyone else think that Muroto Zenmei is pretty much Kongo Agon without the football?

**Summary:** Hanaki Guriko is a player.

* * *

Three blocks from his front door, on his way back from his seven o'clock jog, Sena turned a corner and found a pervert.

He didn't _know_ it was a pervert, not right away. If he had, Sena reflected later on, he would have turned right back around and put his legs to good use. His mother had always told him to stay away from shifty-looking men, and Mamo-nee had spent one interminable afternoon during eighth grade lecturing Sena on all the different types of perverts to be avoided. There'd been a chart, and a _test_—which, a year later, turned out to be in fact totally useless in practical application.

The first thing Sena saw was a metal ball necklace. It was resting against a collarbone and upper pectorals that would not have looked out of place on an NFL linebacker.

Then he looked up, and found a pair of sunglasses looking back.

The man—no, _boy_, despite the beard—was tall. Much taller than Sena, perhaps even taller than Musashi. His hair was curled into a loose afro and the fuzz on his chin was in the shape of a shallow goatee, though his upper lip was bare. The top several buttons of a striped, collared shirt were left undone to show the undershirt beneath, and loose black pants were held up by a low-slung belt. He was leaning back against the wall, one hand holding a cell phone in front of him and the other hanging by the thumb from his belt, the nearest streetlight throwing his face into profile, and everything about him seemed to say _Whatthefuckdoyouwant?_

He looked like the juvenile delinquent Jyuumonji had always wanted to be. If Jyuumonji wanted to be an extra in a Showa era gangster film.

"Yo," said the boy, and went back to his phone.

Sena's first reaction had been _hiiiiii_. But he managed to swallow that panicked gasp, especially as this particular delinquent seemed more intent on texting than hurting him or shaking him down for his spending money, which was a relief because Sena didn't have any money in his track suit anyway. So instead of expiring of terror, Sena took a quick, nervous step back, squeaked something like _"Su-sumimasen,"_ and made to go wide, giving the boy all the space he could while still in the same street.

He got nearly ten steps away and was beginning to remember how to breathe while thinking how _unusual_ it was to see someone like that in his usually very safe neighborhood when the hand caught his shoulder.

"Sooo," said the boy. A—strangely heavy—arm settled over Sena's shoulders, and the boy was grinning down at him. The phone was nowhere to be seen. "What's a cute _kohai_ like you doing around here?"

Sena—looked around, to see who he was talking to.

"Ahaha, so modest! Look, I'm not sure where this is and I'm trying to get back into the Suzuran area. Suzuran? Why don't you show me to a terminal and I'll treat you to something?"

OK, at least he was friendly. Sena had no problem giving directions. He'd practically made an art form out of helping out-of-towner _obaasan_s find their way.

"Oh—um—thank you, but that's not—it's not necessary, I can just give you directions—"

So awkward. Sena blushed to hear himself stammering so much and glanced longingly down the street. Three more blocks, just _three_, and he could have been home...

"Ah," said the boy. He leaned down, his hand slipping from Sena's shoulder to his upper arm to hold him in place, and said, in a lowered voice, almost directly into Sena's ear, _"Kawaii."_

Uh.

"Uh—you—I'm sorry, it's just that—that you're really close, and—if you c-could just let—let me go, I'll—"

"What?" The boy's mouth turned down at the corners. "So cold! Why is such a cute _kohai_ being so cold to Guriko?"

Sena blinked, briefly forgetting to be afraid. "Guriko?" Seriously?

"Yeees!" The boy—Guriko—squeezed his shoulder, taking the opportunity to pull him close enough that Sena was now sort of pressed against Guriko's side. "But you can call me Guri Guri."

Sena was trying to figure out what was going on. Guriko-san was being—awfully familiar. And very...very physical, wasn't he, with his...his hand on...

On...

"What did you say your name was?"

"Sena," said Sena, without thinking, and then wanted to kick himself.

"That's real cute, Sena-chan." The boy's hand went from Sena's upper arm to Sena's—

"I'm a boy!"

There was _no way_ he'd just blurted that out. Yet his mouth was open, and Sena realized that the frightened, high-pitched voice that had just come out of it was _his_.

The boy's arm went stiff. Sena tried to pull himself away and it was as if he were pushing at a steel girder. His stomach sank as he realized he was helpless.

And they'd come so close to the Christmas Bowl, too.

"I'm so sorry, Guriko-san," he cried, still pushing at the arm. Sena was practically in tears, and he was _not_ going to look at Guriko. "I'm—I'm sorry I'm a boy! I should have said—something! P-please don't be offended, I—"

Guriko's arm was not moving. Sena was seeing his life flash before his eyes. He couldn't believe he was about to be killed by a boy who dressed like a Japanese Rico and went around telling people to call him Guri Guri. "G-Guriko-san—"

Sena's feet left the ground. He had a second for a gasp before he was being shoved up against a wall, legs dangling and eyes wide.

Guriko was holding him against the bricks, his hands pinning Sena's arms to his sides.

They were _really big_ hands.

The sunglasses were right in front of him, sliding low on Guriko's nose. The boy was looking at him over the rim of his shades, and Sena looked into Guriko's eyes for the first time.

Flat, narrowed eyes, like the edges of a knife. Cold and emotionless, without mercy. Black in the yellow light, the eyes of a beast.

Sena couldn't help it. His own eyes began to tear up, more from sheer stress than anything.

"G-Guriko-san," he whimpered, and then closed his eyes, waiting for the pain.

And got a face full of some cologned, cottony surface.

_"Kawaii,"_ a voice sighed over his head.

Sena was—his face was in Guriko-san's chest. Guriko-san's arms were wrapped around him, holding him up, and his feet were still off the ground.

"Mmmmf," he said intelligently, into Guriko-san's shirt.

A pause. Then, "You sure you're not a girl?" asked Guriko.

Sena nodded as best he could.

"How old are you?"

"Fimfdeen," he said into Guriko's shirt.

"Huh." For a minute or two, Guriko just stood there, apparently thinking, while Sena struggled to breathe against Guriko's chest. Then, "OK," and Sena was sucking in oxygen as he staggered back against the wall.

He had exactly two gasps to get his bearings before Guriko grabbed his hand and began dragging him off.

"G-Guriko-san?"

"We're goin'," said Guriko. He seemed relaxed. "Where's the terminal?"

"To the left," said Sena automatically, then, _"Where?"_

"My place."

And, more importantly, "Why?"

"I left my rubbers there."

Sena's mind went blank.

"Sena Sena, would you rather be Girlfriend #9 or Boyfriend #1?"

For the rest of his life, Sena wouldn't know exactly how he managed to break Guriko's grip on his hand. All he knew was that he'd been being dragged toward the terminal in one moment and running toward home the next, _speeding like a bullet train_ through the streets, his mind a total blank, while from behind, Guriko cheerfully called after him, "OK, Sena Sena, I'll see you later!"

Guriko, decided Sena, huddled in a shaking heap just inside the door while his mother repeatedly asked him what was wrong, was a pervert.

He prayed he would never see Guriko again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Do. Not. Own.

**Warnings:** **Yaoi.** Still kinda **crack**, only now I fear I'm under the delusion this is actual fic.

**A/N:** Hanaki Guriko is a _beast_. If he played _amefuto_, it would all be over. For everyone.

You know, if Suzuran and Housen fielded American football teams..._holy shit_. I mean, if you could get any of those anti-authority/school delinquents to play.

I love WorstxES21. SO MUCH. Every person who reviews this fic can give me a prompt and I will write a WxES21 fic/ficlet/drabble for it. Only condition is it IS GOING to involve Sena, because I am a Senawhore.

_(Where are you, my fellow WxES21ers?!)_

* * *

"Sena Senaaaaaa!"

No. It couldn't be.

"Senaaa-chaaaaaan!"

Please, no.

Mamori was looking. Monta was looking. Hiruma was looking. Everyone was looking. Oh, God, _Shin-san_ was looking.

"Oi! Sena-chan! Why are you ignoring meee?"

Almost shaking with trepidation, Sena turned to look.

Guriko was standing on the side of the hill beside the field, waving an arm. He looked almost the same as the day before, only now he wore a black coat. Behind him, up on the road proper, was another guy—who looked _even scarier_ than Guriko. Sena couldn't see many details from so far away, but the other person wore a bandanna, sunglasses, a patterned shirt over regulation uniform pants, a leather jacket, had a _huge scar_ down the side of his face as if he'd been sliced at with a knife, and was leaning against one of two stripped scooters while smoking, like he was _bosozoku_ or something.

"Sena-chan," Guriko was calling, "we're goin' to a movie! You come too!"

_Whyyy?_ Sena wailed to himself. Why now? Couldn't this _possibly_ have happened at another time? Like at any time when Sena _wasn't_ at practice with _every amefuto_ player he'd ever respected?

Not that he wanted it happening _at all_. But this was just too much. He couldn't just run into perverts on the way home, now they were following him to afternoon practice.

Good news was, Mamo-nee would protect him. Bad news was, Hiruma was going to use this against him _for the rest of his life_.

"Heeey, _nai-issu_ uniform!" Guriko was walking toward him, hands shoved into his coat pockets. "You didn't go home, so I came looking. Some bastard at the gate told me to check here. I didn't know you were on the team! Number twenty-one!"

Sena looked frantically around. He was alone at the far end of the field, having just dashed over to pick up a ball. Everyone else was over at the other end, standing in a group while they took a water break. Guriko was coming at him from the opposite direction—which left Sena stuck between two groups of people he would have _really_ rather not talked to just then.

Guriko was maybe twenty yards away. Sena briefly debated whether he'd prefer being interrogated by a devil or kidnapped by a pervert.

Very briefly.

"Sena Sena?"

_Sorry, pervert-san,_ he mentally whimpered, and, cutting back on one heel, _took off_ for the group at the other end.

Mamo-nee would protect him. Failing that, Sena could always hide behind Kurita or Jyuumonji. Probably Jyuumonji was the better choice, since Kurita-san was too nice to really hit anyone and if anyone knew how to fight a scary delinquent, it would be a scary delinquent, wouldn't—

Sena's feet left the ground.

For nearly five seconds, his brain couldn't process. He was vaguely aware of shouts coming from the water stand, and he caught a glimpse of Monta's and Ikkyu-san's gaping faces nearly eighty yards away. There was a tug at the back of his uniform, the jersey and shoulder guards pulling up, as if someone had him by the neck of his uniform. His legs were flailing a bit and his feet weren't touching anything solid. The ball had slipped from his hand.

"Sena Sena, why're you running? You're making Guri Guri sad."

_But that's impossible,_ thought Sena, and then Guriko's face was peering through the face guard at him and Sena realized that Guriko was holding him up with one handful of his jersey.

Guriko had caught him.

When Sena had turned to run, Guriko had been around twenty yards away. Sena had begun running at maximum speed and gotten nearly ten yards. So for Guriko to have caught him, he would have had to...had to...

_He caught me,_ a dazed voice seemed to say in Sena's brain. _Pervert-san caught up to me and caught me._

"Ahaha, that's so cute, Sena Sena! Playing hard to get, I like it."

Then Guriko tucked Sena under his right arm.

Like Sena was a football.

"Let's make it a date. I'll tell Kurosar to get lost."

And Guriko turned and began walking back toward the other guy and the scooters. With Sena still under his arm.

Sena tried to make up his mind to scream. Surely this was exactly the kind of situation that screaming was for? It wasn't very manly, but then, what was manly about being carried off by a pervert? _Why_ wasn't anyone doing anything? Were they just going to watch while this afro made off with Deimon's running back? Where was the hail of bullets, the flying broom, the chorus of _Huh?!_s?

"_Oi_! Hey, wait!" _Monta._ Monta would help him.

"Wait! You, with the—the hair! Wait!" Mamo-nee!

"What are you doing, you afro!" Riku!

And then, from way in the back, Hiruma's voice saying, "_Oi_, Shin. Tackle that guy."

Sena couldn't quite see what happened next. He did hear the rapid approach of a running linebacker, who by the pace had to be Shin-san. He felt Guriko's arm tense around his waist, and then Guriko turned, pointing Sena back in the direction of the rest of the team and the personal coaches, and Sena had a glimpse of Shin-san accelerating _straight at_ them, at four point two for the forty, his expression somehow _sterner_ than usual, arm already out for the Trident Tackle.

Sena gasped, and he heard Guriko say above him, "Huh."

Then Shin-san was right in front of them, and his arm extended to—

Guriko moved. Sena, helpless, moved with him.

Shin-san slammed into the turf on his back, the breath knocked out of him in a pained gasp.

Sena's heart stopped.

"What a troublesome bastard," said Guriko, and straightened back up. Turning away from Shin-san, he began walking toward the scooters again.

The whole field was silent.

"Sh-Shin-san?" whispered Sena, but all he got was Guriko patting his helmet and saying, "What's that, Sena Sena? Ice cream? Anything for Sena-chan!"

What—what just—

Sena closed his eyes. What had happened? Shin-san had been charging at Guriko—his arm out for the Trident Tackle—Sena had felt Guriko tense, felt him bend his knees, and then one shoulder, the left one, had lowered, and—

Sena tried to hold the image in his head. He'd been right there, facing the entire thing, and still it had been too fast. But if he just remembered it clearly—slowed it down—

There'd been an arm movement. Guriko had held out his left arm at the same time as he'd lowered his shoulder, and when Shin-san's arm had come out for the tackle, Guriko had countered it with his own, only instead of breaking away immediately he'd turned into Shin-san's charge, blocking the grab and throwing Shin-san off balance with his arm while shoving forward with his own shoulder. Shin-san had been unable, at the last second, to stop the momentum of his run, so when Guriko pushed Shin-san slightly off-balance with his arm and then hit him with the shoulder—

_He knocked Shin-san down,_ realized Sena. _He threw off Shin-san's charge just enough for the momentum to work against him and then he hit Shin-san with his shoulder to knock him down. It's...it's so simple._

Simple, but not easy. Shin-san's physical strength was—and if Guriko had not only _met his charge_ but also _knocked him down_, that made—and it wasn't as if Shin-san would have just _let_ it happen, so Guriko's own reaction rate had to be—

Absurdly, the only thing Sena could think was, _I wonder what Guriko-san benches?_

Behind them, he could hear Shin-san making a stifled noise under his breath as he got up.

"Sena Sena, I changed my mind," said Guriko as he climbed the hill. "Let's go back to my place. We can watch a movie there."

"B-but, Guriko-san," tried Sena.

"_Oi!_ Kurosar! I'm going home. Fuck off."

The other guy—Kurosar?—was apparently just in front of them. Sena could see a cloud of cigarette smoke. Then he caught a glance at Kurosar's face, all raised eyebrow and _big, scary scar_. Kurosar's scar probably took Jyuumonji's scar's milk money every day.

"You taking Sena-chan with you?" asked Kurosar—a low, stoic voice, a lot like Shin-san's. Sena blushed for no reason.

"That's Sena-_san_ to you, bastard. And don't look at my girlfriend like that. You wanna die?"

Sena had never experienced abduction by pervert before. He wondered if it was weird to be as calm as he was.


End file.
